


\'ii-L 




Class IE 

Book^ 

C)opy]iglit}J"-B^?^ 



CQEffUGHT OEPOSeC 




I 



MY GARDEN 
OF VERSE 



By 

GRETCHEN LEWIS COURTNEY 



PUBLISHED BV 

GILES C. COURTNEY 

BICHMOND, VA. 






Copyright, 1922 

by 

Gretchen Lewis Courtney 



XU602e44 



DEC 30 '22 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



Songs (he Spirif Sii)(i.s — echoes of light — 
What ecstasy rings in their genius and might; 
Borne out of the ether, cradled in thought; 
In silence they enter the soul and are wrouglit. 



To a lass whoso failli in a 
slender talent was my 
spur, and to a knight 
whose service of love with 
skilful hands made thi^ 
little volume possible. 



O N G »S THE S P I E I T SING 



MY GARDEN 
OF VERSE 



MY GARDEN 

Out in the cool of my garden silence 
My thoughts, unleashed, leap up and on. 
No jarring note nor mortal nearness 
To consciously direct their course. 
I'Vom subterranean depths of memory 
Spontaneously a golden stream 
Winds in and out of tlowers and grasses, 
Paints pictures that the sky reflects, 
Leaves jewels in the tangled masses. 
Etches trees with leaves of lace, 
Floods the soul with inspiration 
Found in solitude sublime — 
A nature's Trinity unsullied 
Combined in Go.l and love and mind. 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



BEAUTlFrL TiioraiiTs 

Dedicated to Woodrow irHsoii 

Beautiful thoughts from the minds of men 
Speed straight to God and He blesses tlieni 
Ere they come like the sun and the fragrant rain 
To warm and refresh us again and again,. 
Such thoughts are flowers, and their costly seed 
Are nurtured in hearts that ache and bleed 
With the woes of the world and the sorrows of life, 
With the burdens' of others, the stress and the strife ; 
Till out of it all bursts the soul that lives. 
Strengthens and grows, blossoms and gives; 
Till the stalk IxMids down and sleeps 'neath the sod 
To awaken at last in the image of God. 



AS A MAN THINKETH 

"Touch not mine anointed," 

But thine own cup cleanse, 

And deep within its shining lens 

Thou soon shalt see reflected there 

Thy Brother's s'oul with beauty rare. 

Do we crush the rose because of the thorn? 

Or rail at the night that follows the morn? 

Love lifts the heart and faith the soul ; 

Doubt chokes the will, the way, the goal. 

Pluck out the beam that makes thee blind 

If thou wouldst help another find 

The tiny mote that floats away 

"When perfect love shines as the day. 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



TO AN OLD WEDDING RING 

Oh, littk' treasured circlet, 
What memories you hold 

Of love and faitli and constancy 
Within vuur virtfin t;old. 



A talisman so piecious, 

So fragile, old and rare; 
The glory of your beauty 

Eternally you wear. 

What a wealth of bliss you fettered; 

What happy hearts you bound; 
What joyous- hopes and blessings 

\Vithin two lives you wound. 

You are a byg-om^ relic, 

A sweet and tender thing; 
A cherished gift, an amulet — 

An old, worn wedding ring. 

Though thin and pale from wear and age 
Your nu\ssage still you bear. 

Lettered deep inside your rim, 
A poem and a prayer. 

"Mizpah," that magic word of yore, 
The years have loved so well. 

Will live and shine from age to age. 
And love's sweet srtorv tell. 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



TO WALLER 

Beyond the trees there's a silver sea 
And my heart holds the gold of the sun, 

For my little pal has come back to me 
With his riot of laughter and fun. 

The breezes are having their autumn meet, 
While the glowing leaves scamper with joy ; 

They echo the gladness far down in the street 
Of a rollicking dear little boy. 

Vacation is o'er and books, laid away, 
Have been gathered again in a pack 

For little brown hands to carry each day 
Along the old beaten track. 

The lessons' of life and the visions they give 
Must breathe of God's own great love, 

For the soul of a child was created to live 
And its heart was a gift from above. 

So my prayers arc winging away to the skies 
And my hopes are singing with glee 

For my dear little pal with the handsome eyes 
Ay he dances back home to me. 



S0NG8 THE SPIRIT SINGS 



A DESECRATED FRIENDSHIP 

I loved aiul lost you, Linda, 

But iu the uiehe I held 
\Yirhin my heart to shrine you there 

An angel I beheld, 
I prayed and plead with this fair one 

To bring- you back to me. 
Alas. I eannot, cried my guest, 

Thy i'l'iend rejected thee. 

I've come to give thee comfort 

And teach the faith that heals 
The wounds that men leave gaping 

AYlien envy conscience steals. 
Earthly idols do not hold, 

But as they fall away 
A light appears- to lead us up 

Where love shines as the day. 

Where moth and rust do not corrupt, 

Nor thieves break through nor steal; 
Where treasures old and new are kept. 

Their beauties unrevealed ; 
T^ntarnished is the casket 

That holds these gifts so rare, 
Trar.isligured with immortal life 

To greet and bles-s us there. 



10 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



VIA TRITA VIA TUTA 

Thr Brat r II Path Is the Safe Path 

Along the years there winds a trail 

That leads to radiant life. 
It is the trail the Master blazed 

Through thorns and blood and strife. 
It holds a Wilderness of gloom, 

Geths'emane's sorrow and pain, 
Calvary's cross — the angry mob, 

Peter and Judas again, 
Mary's and Magdalene's grief and loss. 

The hate of a world of sin 
Too hardened to see the light ahead 

And the Christ who enters in. 
To the fullness of a perfect life 

He won for the thief at His side 
And pleads to bestow on you and me 

At this glorious Eastertide. 



11 



bONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



TO II. B. S. 

"And a little child f<Jiall lead them." 

A tiny llower much too jnire 

For earthly soil and air 
Was lifted by God's angels 

Where all is bright and fair. 

The memory of her little life 

Is like t n incense sweet, 
AVhich wafts its perfume down the years, 

Our weary souls to greet. 

A baby's arms' from HeaAen, 
Stretched down along the way, 

Will lead the Pilgrim to the Heights 
To watch and fast and pray. 

A baby's dimpled footsteps, 

So innocent and light, 
Shall lead us up above the stars. 

Beyond the shades of night. 

A baby's heart, so clean and true. 
Shall keep us strong and brave ; 

A baby's soul s'o blameless 
Our owm shall help to save. 



12 



SONG8 THE SriRIT SINGS 



NOT DEAD BUT SLEEPING 

She is sleeping 'iieatli the roses 

111 the land she loved so well, 
And in Heaven the angels smiling, 

With raptured voices tell 
Of a soul whose cares are lifted ; 

Of a life wliose work is done ; 
Of a spirit which has drifted 

Out beyond the setting sun. 

She is resting by a daisy bed, 

Where Southern breezes play ; 
Where flowers bud and bloom and shed 

Their sweetness' all the day.; 
Where birds of beauty sing and dwell — 

The ones she loved to hear — 
Their feathered throats with music, swell ; 

They ever hover near. 

Litrle vanished hands held out 

To her these long, long years 
Are clasping hers in beautiful sleep 

That wakes to know no tears*. 
Around her in their dreamless rest 

Lie others missed so long ; 
With them in the silent spirit world 

She has joined the saintly throng. 



S O X 8 THE SPIRIT SINGS 



A SABBATH SUNSET 
IN ADVENT 

A flaming radiance loosed by God 

When a day of rest was done ; 
The woiider, power, beauty, love 

Revealed in the setting sun. 
No brush nor pen could j^aint Ihe scene, 

The brilliance and the light, 
An oriflamme of Mary's gift — 

The Christ Child in the night. 



The aftermath and the peace that broods 

O'er the soul when twilight brings 
Thoughts and prayers that glow and gleam 

"With the flutter of angels' wings. 
The prelude to those songs of praise 

Rising that Christmas morn. 
Proclaiming to the sons of men 

That Jesus Christ was born. 



14 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



'TWAS EVER THUS 

Pursuing the Queen of his choice to a Knight 

Means winning the maid for his wife. 
Being pursued by her Knight is joy to a maid 

And illumines the pathway of life. 
It isr one of High Heaven's immutable laws, 

A perfect and beautiful plan ; 
But when it is altered, twisted, reversed, 

It lowers the woman and man, 
"For as unto the bow the arrow" 

So is unto man, his mate — 
He compelling ; she resisting, 

God speaks through them — it is fate. 



15 



ti o N G b r n E 6 p I R I r sing 



DORMANT, NOT EXTINCT 

All iiii|m(l('iit nose iiiid jilorious luiir: 
A scarlot moulli with a diniplc there; 
Brows and eyes Avhere pure thouohts shine 
Bewitchinjz' men's senses like rare old wine; 
Patrician white hands and small, shajiely feet 
Ways that are wiitninjz- modest and swe(>t ; 
Wisdom and sense; a straiglit, slender I'or 
A vision — an ideal of real girlish charm. 



m 



16 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



KISSES THREE 

Kisses three to my darling ] jjrive. 

And the tenderness they inspire 
Keep them as pure as an angel's song. 

Or the gleam of a vestal fire — 
The Good-bye Kiss wheji I say farewell. 

To ansAver the woild's many calls; 
The Twilight Caress when the shadows tell 

I'm hastening huek home to my love. 

Then under a rose-covered gateway, 

Or treading a moonlighted lea ; 
Or perhaps in a hammock just swinging; 

Or maybe she's smiling at me; 
When I feel surging up in my being 

A love so mighty and deep 
I pray God to ever be worthy 

Such affection to cherish and keep. 

The clasp of her hand is a solace; 

The tone of her voice is a song; 
The glow in her eyes is a poem 

Where silent thoughts linger and throng; 
And when all this womanly sweetness 

Best-owsl her rare graces on me 
There's a splendor of light in the kiss that I win 

Ne'er seen on land or sea. 



17 



SONGS THE SPIRIT SINGS 



SOME WEDDING TOASTS 
(To the Bride) 

To the sweet, quaint bride-elect I drink, 
And may the strongest, loveliest link 
That binds her heart to another's tight 
Be the circle she wears on her wedding night. 

God bless and keep you what you are 

So sweet, so fine, so true; 
J\lay you ever be the guiding star 
Of the life that's dear to you. 

Here's to a pretty girl. 
Here's to a priceless pearl, 

Here's' to her future life, 
Here's to God's sunshine. 
Here's to the marriage lines, 

Here's to a rare, s'weet wife. 



(To the Groom) 

May fate deal with you always 
As she did some years ago, 

When she kindly marked you as the man 
Whose answer was not "No." 

Here's to the love of a brother. 
Here's to the love of a son. 

Here's to the love of a lover, 
And here's to the three in one. 

I drink to a dear little home nest. 
And the joy it soon will know"; 

1 driidv to the fellow who owns it — 
A big brave gallant beau. 



IS 



8 O N G S T II IC ;3 P I R ] T « I N G 



TO MOTHERS 

To F. L. S. 

There '.s a beautiful sea of mystery 
That is never sailed by men ; 

It's a sea by the heights of Motherhood 
And it lies beyond their ken. 

Its ships- are manned with angels 
Whose smiles of courage keep 

A host of Mothers safe above 
Its waters- swift and deep. 

These angels are the pilots, 

And the precious freight that lands 
Upon those shores where life meets death 

Is lifted in their hands. 

Sometimes a little life is lost 
And s-ometimes, sadder still, 

The Mother Soul drifts out and leaves 
A void that none can till. 

Yet legions of these travellers 

AVho sail this sparkling sea 
Reach port with hearts and eyes aglow 

xVnd songs of vie.torv. 



19 



TALES THAT HUMOR TELLS 



Taks Tluit Humor Tells may be 
Tales on you as well as me; 
So don 't feel sad if here you see 
One on you instead of me. 



TALES THAT HUMOR TELLS 



ONE WAY BACK TO EDEN 

This world might be a pretty good place 

To live in and have a soft berth, 
Tf Adam and Eve had taken "pot luck" 

At that first meal they had upon earth. 
Eve must have been setting the table, 

And waiting for Adam to see 
The figs and grapes she had fixed on some leaves 

When Satan hopped out of the tree, 
And showed her those pretty red apples 

With wicked and fiendish glee; 
Offering to give her a big juicy bite 

Tf she'd only buy one for her mate; 
When forgetting herself and the tree it hung from 

She bought their dessert and they ate. 

So together they fell and together they roam 

Through a world of suspicion and doubt ; 
And there's only one way to the Paradise Gate 

From which they were both driven out. 
Tt lies "Over There" in the spirit land, 

Where nothing is sold or bought; 
Where dollars and cents have never been; 

Where envy and greed have not fought ; 
Where silver and gold are free as air, 

And all men are equal and blest ; 
Where our cares and our woes all fall away 

And we lay down our burdens and rest. 



23 



T A L E ti T H A T H U M O K T E L L £j 



TO A "WILDCAT" 

There wa.s a "Doc" in our town, 

And he was wondrous Avise ; 
He never told you what you had, 

Nor listened to your sighs. 
He let you talk your tool head off, 

And then he d calmly say : 
"Don't do this, and don't eat that, 

And rest three hours each day." 

His office was a roosting place 

For every kind of "nut." 
They took his powders, ate his pills, 

And liked the cross old "Mutt." 
Sometimes he got so red and mad, 

He almost tore his hair, 
And human nature then beheld 

A wildcat in his lair. 

To old folks he was tender, 

And with children he Avas dear. 
But on the squealing, idle sort 

He practiced with a leer. 
Yet he Avas' busy all the time. 

And couldn't get aAA'ay 
To take a rest just once a year 

And have a holiday. 



24 



TALES THAT HUMOR TELT-S 



He was a bright and clever chap ; 

He joked away one's fears; 
He bossed and ordered folks around, 

And laughed at silly tears. 
Once in awhile he was real nice, 

And sympathetic, too, 
With aches and pains, and even "nerves' 

His patients'' wonder grew. 

And while you wondered much about 

His methods rare and queer, 
This paradox was teaching you 

To help yourself, my dear. 
A courage must be fine and strong 

That dares to act a part, 
That others may win out and hope ; 

Look up and make a start. 

The knife did Jiot appeal to him 

Unless the case was grave. 
And nothing else Avas quick enough 

An ebbing life to save. 
His name will be emblazoned 

Down the ages, I'm quite sure, 
As one whose school of discipline 

Recorded manv a cure. 



25 



TALES THAT HUMOR TELLS 



A VALENTINE THAT MISSED THE MAIL 

I sing a song- of a newspaper gang, 

A gang that's hard to beat; 
They rant and snort and fuss and fight, 

But somehow fall on their feet. 

There's Lynn and Potts, Hess and Jones, 

Bosses of different types; 
Each thinks' he's "It," so don't wake them up 

Prom those dreams curling out of their pipes. 

"Doc" Freeman is a wonder man, 
With a rich and marvellous mind ; 

His knowledge is unlimited 
Of every sort and kind. 

There's "Cally" with the fertile brain 

And caustic pen. Oh, Son ! 
Here's hoping you are not the boob 

At whom she's poking fun. 

Among the upstairs union bunch 

Are many loyal guys, 
And some are good and clever, 

With open minds and eyes. 



26 



T ALES THAT ?I U M O R T E L li S 



Slaugrhtor is a wizard 

With wonderful speed and skill, 
And Mae is' a man with the kind of a job 

That only a man can fill. 

Jesse and Walter are good old scouts, 

And Giles is a smiling chap ; 
The three are pals and they form a squad 

Who for camouflage don't care a rap. 

There are numerous others in this gang, 

Whose names I can't recall, 
But ere I lay my pen aside, 

One more I would extol. 

lie is the modest, brilliant chief 

Of all this motley crew — 
A Christian and a diplomat — 

A person real and true. 

Contented to play fair and straight 

The game of life with men, 
John Stewart — leader, prince and chief 

Of all your tribe and ken. 



27 



'1' A L E S THAT HUMOR T E L Ix S 



JOURNALISM 

David was a clever scribe 

And so was Edmund, too; 
But David had the kopecJks, 

And Edmund not a sou ; 
So all the brains that Edmund had 

Dave thought he'd like to hire, 
Provided Edmund would agree 

To let him pull the wire. 

So Edmund said: Alright, Old Top, 

Gadsooks, I '11 let them go ; 
For what are brains without some coin 

I'd really like to know? 
I'll write your views and spill my words; 

Money's wh£t I'm after; 
News is what the public wants ; 

Genius is my grafter. 
Ideals won't buy auto cars; 

Visions are gold bricks; 
Unless I hustle while I dream 

I'll never take odd tricks. 

Facts and jokes, truths and lies, 

Politics, science, creeds 
Mingle and mould the minds of men ; 

Prompt their words and deeds. 
And when we live in a world like this 

Where nothing talks like cash, 
A poor guy s'ells most anything 

To cut his little dash. 



28 



TALEB THAT HUftlOR TELLb 



SUMMER, 1921 

I'm crazy niit the heat, I am; 

I'll say I am, Old Sun, 
So take your rays some seven ways 

And let us have some fun. 

For three months you've been on the job, 
And each day has been hotter, 

Till I'm disposed to think, Old Slob, 
You're just a huge "self starter." 

Your hot old face is quite a bore ; 

Your blistering glare is bokl ; 
I'd like to see it rain a month, 

Then — blessed thought — turn cold. 



You've scorched and burnt, fried and stewed 

All nature's garb so green. 
Men's brains' and thoughts you've melted 
red — 

Such nerve has ne'er been seen. 



Get up behind the clouds, Old Blast, 
And give the winds a show. 

The autumn gales are on the way, 
And I'm darned glad it's so. 



29 



TALES THAT HUMOR TELLS 



THE GAME OF LIFE 

Said a Saint to a Sinner I'll give you a tip 

fn the game of Life that we play ; 
While you bid on the Hearts that you hold in your 

gi'ip. 
I Avin with No Trumps every day. 

You stack the deck with cheat and bluff, 

And steal your tricks with a lie. 
But in the end my Honor Score 

Counts up with Aces high. 

Your fussy partner, Money-Mad Greed, 

Deals with deceit and s-tealth, 
E^rgetting the fact that methods like these 

Are sigiuils of failure and death. 

The first prize, Virtue, is always mine; 

The second, Contentment, I get ; 
But the "booby" you draw, and it's labeled 
"Despair" — 

You take it with groans of regret. 

So in this game of Life, "Old Boy," 

You are a sorry lout, 
And bye-and-bye I'll wear a crown 

When vou are down and out. 



30 



EAINBOW RAYS OF OTHER DAYS 



Rainboiv Rays of Other Days 
On youthful, Mppy hours 

Leave golden beams across those drcanus 
Reflecting memory 's flowers. 



EAINBOW RAYS OF OTHER DAYS 



9 EAST GRACE STREET 

Back over the years I trip with joy 

To those days that are no more, 
When my brothers and I played hide and seek 

In a yard of the long ago. 

Where today only part of the old house stands, 
Where we first saw the light of day; 

Where we romped through the fun of Santa Claus 
land, 
And rollicked with laughter and play. 

AVhere the woman who nurtured and loved us, 

A mother who was a saint, 
Sat in the cool of the evening 

In a garden lovely and quaint. 

Where her spirit communed with the flowers. 
And her influence, lofty and fine. 

Cast a spell o'er the children she fondled. 
Like music that echoes through time. 

This old fashioned garden, secluded. 

With specimens fragile and rare. 
Was planted and brought to perfection 

By one whom we called "Grandpere." 

A fun-loving soul and a doctor; 

A physician who filled every need ; , 

A soldier, veteran, author ; 

A congenial companion, indeed. 

A botanist, teacher and surgeon, 

AVhose bills bore the Red Cross? seal ; 

Whose patients were poor and adored him; 
Whose wealth was his power to heal. 



35 



E A I N B O W R A Y b OF O T H E E DAYS 



There was ivy i'roni Kenilworth Castle 
In this garden of roses and vines; 

A trellis, a picturesque bower, 

Where the Microphylla clustered and twined. 

A lily nook, sunken and shaded ; 

High ground, where the tulip beds lay, 
Where jonquils and starry narcissus 

Reflected the glory of day. 

A cold frame, a basement for nurslings. 
With steps leading down in the ground, 

Where the Night-Blooming Cereus was guarded, 
And other exotics were found. 

The one I remember for beauty 

AVas exquisitely chiselled and white, 

But a touch or a breath on its petals 
Would injure and leave there a blight. 

Cape Jasmine, odor from Edom; 

Faultless, but where is it now? 
Perhaps it has gone wath those gardens, 

Or just doesn't linger, somehow. 

W^here nothing seems natural or loving, 
Like it did in those years long ago. 

When trysting and romance and gardens 
Were hallowed and hidden and slow. 



RAINBOW EAYS OF OTUER DAYb 



AN IDEAL 

Give me a thoughtful man, 

With a face that is honest and strong ; 
One that will fight for right, 

And needs none to help him along; 
One that God fashioned to be — 

Not perfect — just a man, every inch ; 
One who never knovv s fear ; 

Who from duty and work does not flinch ; 
A man who, when seen in a crowd, 

A woman instinctively knows 
Is the one she could trust and believe 

Through a life of joys or woes. 
His profile is no artist's dream; 

Conceited he could not be, 
Yet among all the handsome men 

In his face there is more to see. 
But it rarely appears in this life, 

Though once in awhile you can, 
By watching intently discover 

The face of a real manly man. 



37 



WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER 

First there was dear old Heiny, 

When she was sweet sixteen, 
Just home from "The University," 

And as handsome as a dream ; 
They talked and danced and "had it" bad 

He made the sweetest lover, 
But she, alas, could not right then 

The answering spark discover. 
Of course dear Henry soon found out 

That there were maids galore, 
And straightway bowed at other shrines; 

Oh, but her heart was sore ; 
Not long, though, for a soldier boy 

Soon stole it right away ; 
He was the finest, noblest lad. 

In Y. M. I. array. 

Brass buttons, a buckle, letters sweet, 

Preserved with girlish care, 
Were happy, cherished relics 

Of this second love affair. 
A summons home, a broken date 

The night they planned to meet, 
A misunderstanding — then a break — 

And love made a quick retreat. 
In after years he made a plea 

For the love that might have been. 
Too late, though, for another then 

Right boldly had stepped in ; 
He was an athletic man, 

With shoulders big and grand; 
He rushed and wooed her gallantly,, 

And almost won her hand. 



38 



RAINBOW RAYS OF OTHER DAYS 



A ring, a locket and other gifts ; 

Love letters by the .score, 
And every da}- a little girl 

Learned to love him more. 
For two brief happy, golden years 

The course of love ran .smooth ; 
Then pride stepped in and parted wide 

Their lives for aye forsooth. 
Of minor loves and friends and beaux 

There were right many, too — 
On,e Tom, two Franks, Charles, Bob and Jim 

And, oh, yes, one named Hu — 
She liked them all, and likes to think, 

Now that they 're far apart. 
That each one keeps a thought for her 

Down somewhere in his heart. 



The last Prince Charming to appear 

Is gentle, brave and kind ; 
Considerate, good with winning ways, 

And broad, well-balanced mind. 
He may win out, and if he does 

I'll tell you why 'twill be — 
Because he's never loved before. 

And she? — well, onlv three. 



19 



It A 1 N li U W BAYS O F OTHER DAYS 



YESTERDAY AND TODAY 

Jii boyhood's golden pa.st 

1 loved you alone, sweetheart. 
My hear! was yours to keeji and elaim 

From all the world apart. 
No other face smiled in my dreams 

But yours in the old sweet way ; 
No soul Avas one in thought Avith mine ; 

No voice or tone so gay — 
But that was Yesterday, 

And this is Today. 

We talked of love and life 

Together, just you and J, 
As we sat in the misty light 

That flooded the s'ummer sky, 
Sometimes we were s'ilent, little one, 

But your hand was in my oAvn, 
And I felt a thrill of holy love 

Till then 1 ne'er had known — 
But that Avas Yesterday, 

And this is Today. 

We Avere happy apart from the crowd, 

An,d you never sought to conceal 
Your love for me from others, 

And you neA^er seemed to feel 
Any lack of admiration 

From those Avho would fain have been 
Attentive to you, my darling. 

Had they thought you were free to win- 
But that Avas Yesterday, 

And this is Today. 



40 



K xV i N B O W K AYS U F O T 11 E j; 1> A V b 



"Well, we cannot alter fate, 

Nor keep the past always ; 
Destiny weaves a thread 

That saddens those bygone days, 
When faith and love and joy, 

Postered by innocent youth, 
Know no sorrow nor care, 

When all is beauty and truth — 
When all our Yesterdyys 

Hallow Today. 

You and 1 do not forget 

That boy and girl affair. 
Though now you talk to men galore, 

With a charming naivete air ; 
You don't avoid the noise and rush 

Of a crowded ballroom floor ; 
You divide one waltz into three pans, 

And find no man a bore. 

1, too, am fond of society; 

I am called a blase man; 
1 jolly the youn.g girls a little, 

And the old folks think 1 am grand 
I tit in the place I am wanted ; 

I enjoy life as a whole. 
At night — alone with my pipe — 

The rest of my story is told— 
For th<> love of Yes'terday 

Haunts me Today. 



41 



A BIRTHDAY RHYME 

Many l)right and happy returns 

Of this day for you, I pray ; 
Many joys aiul blessing's, dearest 

To sweeten the hard, rough Avay ; 
God's richest, choicest gifts surround 

Your life in flowing measure ; 
May iiappiness and love abound 

To give to you their treas'ure ; 
1 also ask f<»r you beloved, 

The strength that makes the soul ; 
Tlie sweetness of a pure, true heart ; 

The peace and grace untold. 
That only Heaven itself can send, 

When shadows cloud the way. 
Good angels guard and keep you 

Forever and — Todav. 



42 



'"«;. ^"i^3\' ■'^■■'■'^$m'gf^-'i'W'^ / 



Ml 



VV\WI|IW' 




///4%^/////,J)lllnV\\f\s&r, 



i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 905 004 ft 



Sl^' 



